Clocked
by gwennie3579
Summary: Sequel to "In Brandy, Truth." Will/Finn. Something's not right with Mr. Schue, and Finn is determined to find out what's going on.


Mr. Schue looked like hell.

Finn thought this as they finished running through their latest routine. He was watching the older man, slumped in his seat in the auditorium, as he caught Rachel in a difficult lift just as she finished her solo. Finn's gaze was trained over her head, fixed on his teacher.

Sighing, Finn set Rachel down gingerly on her feet. She turned around, most likely to offer some "constructive criticism," and caught the direction of his worried stare. Offering him an understanding half-smile, Rachel kept her mouth shut and motioned for the rest of the gang to gather around.

Out in the audience, Mr. Schue gave them a half-hearted clap. "Nice job, guys," he said, sounding exhausted. "Let's wrap up for today. We'll pick up with the second routine tomorrow."

Finn and Rachel exchanged a look. Mr. Schue was gathering up his things, balancing a stack of books in his arm as he tried to twine his grey scarf around his neck. Rachel led the group off-stage and into the auditorium, Finn following closely at her side.

"Mr. Schue," she said loudly, just as he was turning around.

Startled, he dropped one of his books, which skidded out into the aisle. Finn hurriedly picked it up and handed it to the other man, giving him a sheepish smile. Mr. Schue looked befuddled, but took the book from Finn's hand with a quiet "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Finn said, just as quietly. He felt his cheeks flush, and quickly backed away. Things were mostly back to normal between them since last month's episode, when Finn had found out about Quinn's betrayal. There was the occasional awkward moment, like this one, but overall neither acted as if anything was out of the ordinary. Finn certainly never referred to Mr. Schue by his first name again, and Mr. Schue for his part never brought it up.

Now though, Finn was worried. Mr. Schue clearly had something on his mind, and while he knew it was irrational and immature, he'd hoped his teacher would feel comfortable confiding in him.

Realizing she wasn't going to get a response, Rachel cleared her throat. "Mr. Schue," she said again, and the man blinked, as though coming out of a fog.

"Yes, sorry, Rachel. How can I help you?"

"Well, we've been talking, and we noticed that you don't seem to be yourself this week." Rachel looked over her shoulder, and Finn gave her an encouraging nod. "Frankly, Mr. Schue, you look... well, wrecked... and we're all worried. And besides, I just don't see how you can expect us to be at the top of our game, if you aren't at the top of yours --"

Finn gave Rachel a sharp nudge in the side. They'd discussed the most tactful way to go about this, and that wasn't it.

"Er, sorry. What I mean... what we all wanted to say... we're here for you. If you need us." Rachel nodded as she said this, apparently satisfied it was appropriately sympathetic. Finn rolled his eyes, wondering why he'd agreed to let her do all the talking.

"And you've been wearing that courderoy monstrosity for three days," Kurt piped up. "One more day and we were going to stage a fashion intervention."

Ah, yes. That's why Rachel did the talking.

Finn shot Kurt a glare, just as Puck gave the boy a quick slap to the back of the head. Puck caught his eye and threw him a smirk, but Finn looked away. They weren't back on speaking terms yet, and Finn wasn't ready to forgive him for his deception.

"Thanks, Rachel," Mr. Schue, said, and Finn turned his attention back to their teacher. "All of you. I appreciate your concern. And thank you, Kurt," he added wryly, "for the thoughtful advice. But really guys, I'm fine. It's been a rough few days, that's all. You all know how it is -- exams are coming up, and they're just as stressful for me as they are you. I'll be back to normal in no time." Giving them a strained smile, Mr. Schue picked up the rest of his things and headed up the stairs and out of the auditorium.

Finn shook his head, convinced there was something else going on. The rest of the group looked at one another anxiously -- they were all aware their teacher wasn't telling them something.

"Anybody want to venture a guess on what's eating Mr. Schue?" Rachel said, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Mercedes said, shaking her head, "but he looks a hot mess."

"Seriously," Kurt chimed in, "somebody call Clinton and Stacey, quick."

"It's more than that," Quinn said, one hand splayed on her growing belly, the other supporting her lower back. "You can tell he hasn't been sleeping. He looks exhausted." She met Finn's eyes, then quickly looked away. He knew she hadn't been sleeping either, and tried to tell himself he didn't care.

"Finn?" Rachel said, and he turned to her, wondering if she'd caught the awkward exchange with Quinn.

"Yeah?"

"You're pretty close with Mr. Schue. Has he said anything to you, given any indication of what might be wrong?" She was fixing him with one of her patented fierce, penetrating gazes, the kind that saw more than you wanted, and he squirmed under it.

"Uh, no," he said, which was the truth. "I haven't really talked him much lately, outside class and glee club." Also not a lie. "Besides, whatever it is, I don't think he'd tell me." Finn frowned. That hit a little too close to home.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Puck said, "we're not going to figure it out standing around here shootin' the shit. I got places to go..."

"Nursing home," Kurt said tartly, from behind him.

"... people to see..."

"Lonely widows," Kurt supplied.

"... scrawny little fairies to beat up."

Finn rolled his eyes. Those two had been at each other's throats lately. He might know what was up if he'd been talking to Puck, but as with Quinn, he tried to tell himself he didn't care.

The two boys bickered all the way up the stairs and out the auditorium. Tina and Artie headed for the backstage door, and the others all trailed away, leaving Finn alone with Rachel.

"So," she said, looking down at her shoes, then sneaking a peek up at his face. "Care to walk a girl home?"

Finn smiled, but his thoughts were elsewhere. "Sorry, Rach," he said, trying not to notice when her face fell just the tiniest bit. "I've got some things I need to take care of before I head out."

"Okay, then," she said brightly. "No big deal."

"Tomorrow?" he asked.

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure. Tomorrow. See you in class."

"Bye," he said, as she turned and walked away. As soon as he was sure she'd gone, he sprinted up the stairs, out of the auditorium, and down the hall to Mr. Schue's classroom. The door was shut, but he could see his teacher through the window, sitting at his desk, staring solemnly at the cell phone that lay in front of him. Finn tapped on the glass, and Mr. Schue looked up, startled.

Without waiting for an invitation, Finn cracked the door open. "Can I come in?" he said, and was relieved when Mr. Schue waved him inside.

"What's up, Finn?" Mr. Schue asked, running a hand through his curls and looking down at a stack of papers on his desk. Finn leaned over as subtly as he could manage, craning his neck to catch a few words printed on the top page. He couldn't make out much, but it looked to be a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo. At the bottom of the page were two large, bold Xs; Mr. Schue's signature was scrawled haphazardly next to one of them.

"Erm... not much," Finn finally said. It was a testament to his teacher's distraction that he didn't even take notice of the delayed response.

Mr. Schue looked up at him, a slightly confused look on his face, wrinkling his brow in a way that Finn thought made him look very young.

"Finn, I'm sorry, but I've got a lot going on at the moment. If there's nothing specific you need right now, maybe we could talk later?"

Finn wracked his brain, trying to think up a reason to stay. He hadn't yet had a chance to talk to the older man about all the drama with Quinn and her family -- how she'd moved back in with her parents after promising to give the baby up for adoption, and how they were trying to control every single moment of her life now, including the time she spent with him. But looking at his teacher's world-weary expression, Finn couldn't bring himself to burden the man with more of his problems.

"I just... uh... I just wondered if I could get some help... with this week's homework," Finn said, giving Mr. Schue a sheepish smile he hoped looked genuine. "I'm having a hard time with consummating the verbs."

Mr. Schue arched at eyebrow at him and gave him a slight, sarcastic smile. "I think you mean _conjugating_ the verbs, Finn."

Finn laughed, pleased with himself for provoking a mostly positive reaction, even if it was at his expense. "Yeah, that's it," he said, scuffing his shoe against the tile floor and trying to look needy and confused. It wasn't a difficult look for him to achieve.

Mr. Schue sighed. "Okay, I suppose I have a few minutes to spare. But if you're still struggling after this, I'm going to suggest we assign you a tutor."

"Okay," Finn said cheerfully, happy to agree to anything that distracted his teacher from whatever was making him look so depressed.

Mr. Schue gestured Finn over to one of the student desks, but before he could say anything, his cell phone buzzed three times in quick succession, vibrating a few inches across the surface of his desk. He looked at the screen as the phone started buzzing again, and all the color drained from his face. Finn watched with a mixture of curiosity and concern as Mr. Schue picked up the phone and stared at it, as if unsure what to do with it. Finally, he glanced up at Finn, and the younger man couldn't help noticing the sheer terror and dread in his eyes.

"I, uh... I need to take this," he said in a strangled voice. He nodded his head toward the door. "Would you mind...?"

Finn followed the line of his gaze, taking a moment to realize what his teacher was asking. "Oh! Sure. Yeah, sure, of course. Sorry. I'll be right outside."

Mr. Schue gave him a tense smile. "Thanks," he said, flipping open the phone.

"No problem," Finn said, as Mr. Schue muttered a terse "hello."

"I'll just be out here," Finn said in a loud whisper, pointing out the open door. Mr. Schue nodded, not looking at him. "Waiting. I'll just... be waiting." Getting no further response, Finn stepped into the hallway, carefully pushing the door until it was nearly, but not quite, shut. He leaned against the wall next to the door, tipping his head close to the opening and listening hard.

At first, there was silence from the classroom. It stretched into several long, excrutiating minutes. Finn shifted against the wall, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping, but not guilty enough to move. After another moment, he heard the low, even tones of his teacher's voice, and strained to make out what he was saying.

"... not... to happen," Mr. Schue said, and Finn felt chilled to the bone at his deadly tone of voice. Pushing his ear as close to the door as he dared, Finn closed his eyes, concentrating all his senses on the one-sided conversation happening inside the classroom.

"You know it isn't right, Terri," Mr. Schue said, voice rising with anger. Finn leaned back a bit, afraid he'd been seen through the crack.

"I signed the papers." He was talking about the papers on his desk, Finn reasoned. _They must have something to do with Mrs. Schue, and whatever they are, that's what's got him so upset..._

Eyes widening, Finn sucked in a breath, realization hitting him. Divorce papers. That would explain Mr. Schue's recent mood, his distraction, and Mrs. Schue's absence that night when Finn stopped by. Swallowing hard, Finn shook his head, wondering if either of their relationships would make it through the winter. He and Quinn were, for all intents and purposes, over... though he occasionally fantasized about reconciling, and raising their baby together. And now it sounded like Mr. Schue's marriage was heading in the same direction. Finn felt a moment of indignant outrage on his teacher's behalf -- who on earth would ever leave him? What woman would be stupid enough to give him up?

Mr. Schue's rising voice snapped Finn out of his thoughts. "Shit," he hissed, realizing he'd missed a chunk of the conversation. He leaned in close again, holding his breath so as not to make a sound.

"You lied to me!" Mr. Schue said, and the agony in his voice nearly ripped Finn in two. "All these months... you could have told me. You could have... could have told the truth. But you let me believe... you let me believe that we were... that I was...." Mr. Schue's voice cut off abruptly. Finn could make out the strangled, choking sound of soft crying, and he felt his own eyes burn. His mother had taught him to respect women, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to give Terri Schuester a black eye.

"You know I can't do that," Mr. Schue said softly, and Finn leaned in, no longer caring if he was caught. "_Because she's not my baby!"_

Finn straightened up abruptly, stunned. The baby wasn't his? Was Terri having an affair? Feeling a knot growing in the pit of his stomach, Finn's anger at Quinn and Puck, at all the lies and deception, magnified a thousand times. He wanted to charge through the door, tear the phone out of Mr. Schue's hand, and tell the bitch exactly what he thought of her. Grasping the door knob, Finn stood there indecisively, not quite sure what to do. He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear someone approaching the other side of the door.

Suddenly, Mr. Schue swung the door open, startling Finn, and cracking him in the nose with the sharp corner of the heavy wooden door.

"Oof!" Finn said, as the wind was knocked out of him. He stumbled back, hands immediately going to his nose, face scrunched up in pain.

"Finn! Oh, God. Are you okay?" Mr. Schue said, grasping Finn's arms and gently pulling his hands away from his face. Finn could feel hot blood flowing from his nose, and he clamped his lips shut so it wouldn't run in his mouth. Mr. Schue tipped his chin back, elevating his nose, and pulled him back into the classroom, pushing him toward his desk.

"Sit," he said, bolting for a closet in the back of the room. "I'll get you some tissues."

Finn couldn't speak, so he simply sat down as instructed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Moments later, Mr. Schue was standing over him, a wad of tissues clenched in his fist. He pressed several of them into Finn's hand, then used the rest to mop up the blood that had run down Finn's chin and neck, as the boy tried to staunch the flow.

"I'm_ so_ sorry," Mr. Schue said, dabbing at a spot of blood that had soaked into Finn's collar. Finn tentatively pulled the tissues away, relieved to find the bleeding had mostly stopped. He tilted his head forward, to find Mr. Schue's face mere inches from his own. He looked into a pair of startled, sad eyes, and found himself suddenly speechless. Mr. Schue raised a hand, gingerly touching Finn's sore nose with the pads of his fingers, then running the back of one knuckle up Finn's cheekbone.

Shivering in spite of the warm classroom, Finn's eyelids fluttered shut, and he leaned ever-so-slightly into the touch. Raising his hand, he covered Mr. Schue's with his own, strangely relieved when the older man didn't pull away. Swallowing, and trying not to gag over the taste of blood in his throat, Finn opened his eyes and resolutely met his teacher's gaze. He was surprised and a little embarrassed to find tears glittering in Mr. Schue's eyes.

"Think it's broken?" Finn asked, voice hoarse.

Mr. Schue shook his head. "I don't think so. It's awfully puffy though. And you may get a black eye out of the bargain, too. Finn, I'm sorry."

Mr. Schue let his hand drop, but Finn kept his fingers curled tightly around the other man's. "It was my fault," he said, though he couldn't muster much guilt. "I was... I was listening at the door."

Mr. Schue's expression didn't budge, and Finn was glad to see he didn't seem to be angry. He uncurled his fingers from Mr. Schue's hand, but quickly laced them through the other man's when he began to pull away. They stayed like that for a moment, fingers intertwined, as Mr. Schue looked down at him with a conflicted expression.

"Finn --" he started, but his voice came out as nothing more than a choked whisper.

"Will," Finn replied, again relishing the feel of the name on his lips, "I'm really, really sorry. About everything."

Will nodded, giving Finn a sad smile that broke the younger man's heart. "Finn, there's... something else I need to tell you. Something you don't know."

"Okay," Finn said, pushing himself out of the desk chair and putting him mere centimeters away from the older man. "But we can talk about it later."

"Finn," Will began, but before he could say anything else, Finn slipped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, burying his face against Will's neck, wincing at the pressure against his sore nose, but not caring enough to move away. He could feel Will's heart pounding against his chest, mimicking his own racing pulse. He knew something strange was happening, something irrevocable, something that began that night he stayed at Will's house, but somehow, he didn't feel all that worried about it. He was too concerned with comforting his teacher to be freaked out. He figured there'd be time for that later.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Finn pressed a kiss to Will's neck, his teacher's skin warm and alive against his lips.

"Come on," he said, pulling away and looking, embarrassed, at the floor. "Let's go talk."

Will let out a shuddering breath. "Good idea," he said, then gave Finn a wry smile. "How's the nose?"

"Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch," Finn said, giving his teacher a grin, then sobering up. "How about you?"

"The same," Will said with a shrug. He reached out and took Finn's hand, giving it a squeeze. "But it's getting better."


End file.
